


take a breath and hold your tongue

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Series: Monica is Alive AU [8]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Background HueMoni, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9800525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: How to reshape a relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic since August of 2015 if you were wondering

Elmer needs to be gagged—Huey is sure of that. He does think that Elmer would at least have the sense to stop babbling once they really got into it, but in the meantime, he can’t imagine doing anything remotely sexual with him grinning the way he does. With the handkerchief tied around his mouth, at least Huey can focus.

And so he focuses, because he _does_ want this, and Monica made it subtly clear that she is spending the weekend with a friend to give them a little privacy. Still, it was Elmer who brought it up, Elmer who suggested they move to the bedroom (his) and give this a try. He didn’t object to the gag. He’s game for anything.

Huey unbuttons Elmer’s shirt and pushes it down his arms, running his palms over Elmer’s scarred, uneven skin in the process. He knows what his friend’s body looks like by now, and yet it always steals his breath when he sees it. It reminds him of how his mother looked on the last day of her life (though this is hardly the time to be thinking of that) and it makes him _angry_.

The way he pushes Elmer back in bed is demanding, not entirely kind; he straddles Elmer and presses his lips, then his tongue, to his collarbone. The collarbone is the borderline between scarred and unscarred skin, and Huey thinks of hundreds of faceless people standing over Elmer and scheming how to most sensibly hurt him, and he bites down. He hears Elmer catch his breath. He curls the fingers of one hand against Elmer’s chest, where there are long, narrow scars that were probably once knife wounds, and what he wants to do is dig his nails in and tear the damaged skin away. As if that makes any sense. As if it would achieve anything.

One of Elmer’s hands finds its way to Huey’s waist, and the other traces up Huey’s spine, and yes, it’s pleasant, it’s soothing, but Huey doesn’t want to be soothed. He drags his lips down Elmer’s torso, and when instinct tells him to, he bites again, eliciting another gasp from Elmer. The hand on his back massages the base of his spine in gentle, steady circles. Elmer makes a sound through his gag that might be Huey’s name, and finally Huey looks up and sends a cool glare in his direction.

“I’m leading here,” he says, and takes both of Elmer’s wrists and lifts his hands away from his body. He doesn’t pin him, but it’s an option, if Elmer won’t behave.

But when he leans in to press his lips to Elmer’s stomach once more, he hears his name more distinctly.

“Huey. Come on.”

Huey straightens. Elmer has pulled the gag away from his mouth, and at least he’s not grinning. But instead, his eyes are uncharacteristically serious. Huey frowns. “Put that back on.”

Elmer shakes his head, a wry look on his face. “Let’s take a quick breather, okay?”

Huey narrows his eyes in confusion, but he shifts so that he’s not straddling Elmer’s hips anymore. Elmer sits up, rolls his shoulders. His skin is quick to heal; there are no red marks where Huey bit him. No new ones, anyway. Elmer shrugs his shirt back on and buttons it up. 

“…What’s wrong?” Huey asks in a moment.

The smile Elmer gives him then is pained, a little reluctant. “You weren’t smiling,” he says.

It’s the obvious answer, and Huey can’t deny the truth of it. He’s feeling combative and wants to quibble that sex isn’t all grinning and smirking, but before he can open his mouth, Elmer speaks again.

“You weren’t actually enjoying that, were you?”

…No, he wasn’t.

Huey’s face goes utterly blank and he stares at the man he loves with a protective, burning love that feels so close to anger, sometimes. When he sees Elmer’s scars—especially then. But he knows that Elmer doesn’t need, doesn’t _want_ his protection. Not if Huey can’t offer it with a smile.

“I should go,” he says, and stands and turns away with a knot in his chest. But Elmer catches his arm. —It’s not a strong grip. Huey can escape if he wants to. Elmer’s giving him the choice (because he believes that choice is the key to happiness).

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Huey says impassively.

But when Elmer’s hand slips away from his wrist, Huey’s skin feels cold, and he doesn’t move.

Behind him, Elmer sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice serious.

“For what?”

“For whatever I’m doing to hurt you.”

Huey grits his teeth. That’s wrong. _Elmer_ shouldn’t be the one apologizing.

And, as if he can tell that that wasn’t the direction to go in, Elmer shifts the subject a little. “I think… the way you feel about my scars is probably right.”

“They’re _your_ scars.” Is he reminding Elmer, or himself? “Why should I sulk over them if you don’t care?”

“Because you don’t like to think about me being hurt!” The pep in Elmer’s voice makes it sound like he’s answering a question in a class. “Because what they did to me was awful, right? I guess my scars would upset just about anybody, but you actually care about me, so it makes sense that they’d have even more of an effect on you. Maybe I should stay dressed for this?”

Now Huey sends a withering glare over his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had sex before, Elmer, but there’s really not a whole lot you can do without taking off yo—”

He’s cut off mid-word. In one surprisingly quick movement, Elmer has caught his wrist, turned him around, and pulled him down into a kiss. The noise he lets out is one of surprise, but there is an edge of desire to it. He cups his hand around Elmer’s neck and kisses back hard.

He doesn’t realize that he’s trembling a little until Elmer breaks the kiss. There’s fondness in Elmer’s eyes, maybe.

“Huey, you think too hard,” he says. A bashful grin tugs at one corner of his mouth. “I don’t mind that, but it’s making you cranky, and _that_ I don’t like. I’ve got an idea.”

Huey narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure I should trust your ideas in this realm.”

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” Elmer’s grin widens. “I just think you should let me lead instead.”

Silence for a few seconds as the two stare at each other. Elmer doesn’t seem inclined to take the suggestion back.

“ _What_?” Huey asks, blunt. “Do you even have any idea what you’re doing?”

Elmer answers with a shrug. “Did _you_ , when you and Monica first started? …Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. But I’ve done some reading, at least.”

Which—not that Huey would admit it out loud—was more knowledge than Huey had started with. He and Monica had had to fumble and guess their way into intimacy, discovering for themselves what actions produced the desired results. At this point, though, Huey _does_ have an idea of what he’s doing, and can guess what Elmer might like based on his own preferences. So it makes more sense for Huey to lead, logic dictates.

Except that he doesn’t think he can provide what Elmer must want most of all—a smile. Try as he might, he can’t picture himself having _fun_ with this. He can picture urgency and desire and love, yes, but fun? Not his forte. It never has been.

Which makes the conclusion inevitable, as much as Huey might try to avoid it. Elmer should lead here. Huey glances sidelong at him and gives a slight nod.

Excitement alights in Elmer’s eyes. “Great!” he says, and bounces out of bed. He practically throws his arms around Huey’s neck to kiss him again. He’s eager and excited—puppy-like. Huey tries to quiet the analytical part of his mind and answer the kiss properly—

Only for Elmer to guide him back against the wall. The confidence with which he takes charge surprises Huey. He turns his head to free his lips. “Elmer, do you actually have a _plan_?”

“Sure do,” Elmer answers cheerfully. “I figure you’ll want something to lean against.”

“Why do you say that?”

Elmer just winks and starts undoing Huey’s fly. Huey catches his breath at the cold air, and then jumps when Elmer drops to his knees rather than reaching for Huey with his hand.

“Wait,” he says sharply, feeling his face redden. “I don’t—Monica and I don’t even—”

“I know.” Elmer looks up at him, his face a safe foot and a half away from Huey’s penis. He has that dangerous look in his eyes, the one that’s far too clever for how ridiculous he is. “You don’t let Monica do this for you. She said.”

“She… you’ve _talked_ to her about this?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted some ideas!” As if it’s the most natural thing in the world. …Is it? Huey has no idea. He flushes deeper.

“What’d she say?”

“Oh, this and that. On this particular subject, she said that you _really_ like using your mouth on her, but you only let her do it to you like, once a year, if she’s lucky.”

Huey averts his eyes. Elmer’s not wrong. Feeling oddly sullen, he mutters, “It’s not something I ever want to force her into.”

“Trust me, the way she talks about it, there wouldn’t be any forcing involved.” There’s a knowing quirk to his eyebrows that doesn’t make it any easier for Huey to look at him. But then he shrugs, his smile deceptively innocent once more. “That doesn’t really matter right now, though. What matters right now is, are you gonna let _me_ do it? Or is this just about being shy?”

“It’s not about being _shy_ ,” Huey retorts, but he can’t find the words to explain what it _is_ about. Or rather, when he tries to, the best way he can think to describe it is to say that he’d rather focus on someone else than be the center of attention, and that… sounds a lot like being shy, doesn’t it.

Seeing that Huey isn’t going to say more, Elmer presses, “Can I try it, then?”

“Do you _want_ to?”

“Yeah, I do!” His answer is enthusiastic, much more enthusiastic than Huey expected. “I wanna see how you react!”

“You want me to smile.”

“You got it!”

Huey presses his lips together and stares down at his—whatever they are to each other, now. Something other than friends, but “lovers” isn’t right either, or “paramours” or any other word that comes to mind. Elmer is Elmer, and even as they try to incorporate this new facet into their relationship, Huey can’t pin down what that relationship is supposed to change into, or what this is going to mean.

“Hey, Huey?” Elmer taps his knee with an index finger. “Remember what I said about you thinking too hard? I think you’re doing it again.”

“…Yes,” Huey admits.

“You still want to do this? I mean, sex in general. Doesn’t have to be this specifically.”

Huey takes a deep breath. “Come up here,” he says.

Elmer gets to his feet, and Huey pulls him into a kiss. Slower than the one Elmer had led just a moment ago, more methodical and careful. Seductive, maybe, if Huey ever thought of himself that way, but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks of it as an answer to Elmer’s question: yes, he wants to continue. And in a moment, once he’s collected himself, he pushes lightly downward on Elmer’s shoulders.

“All right,” he mumbles. “I’m ready.”

Elmer flashes him a grin, too quick to be as silly as most of his smiles are, and then he reaches and cups his hand against Huey’s penis. Huey should have been expecting it, but he catches his breath anyway, and he shivers a little as Elmer lowers himself to his knees.

“Elmer…”

“Hm?”

Elmer glances up just before he can make contact, and Huey feels his cheeks prickle at the sight he finds himself staring down at. It turns him on, for some ungodly reason. The sight of his—his—of _Elmer_ about to put his mouth on him. He shakes his head to indicate that he has nothing more than that to say and cups his left hand around the back of Elmer’s neck.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs.

Another one of those split-second smiles from Elmer, and then he leans in and brushes his lips against the head of Huey’s erection. Huey bites back a surprised sound. And then Elmer’s tongue emerges and licks hesitantly up Huey’s length, and Huey can’t stop himself from letting out a quiet moan.

Elmer looks up again, a question in his eyes. “Is that good?”

Huey nods without a word.

“Good! Let me know if it stops being good, or if you want more or something, yeah? There’s only so much you can learn from books.”

“Just keep going,” Huey says, for now. He aims for his usual brusqueness but instead it sounds a little needy, a little—eager. Which, if he’s honest with himself, he is. He’s left his detached air behind at some point, and maybe that’s how this _should_ be, but it leaves him feeling defenseless.

Elmer doesn’t call attention to it, though. Instead he licks up Huey’s erection once more, slow and tantalizing this time, curling his tongue around its head at the end. Huey clenches his free hand into a fist and tries to keep his breathing even. But when Elmer’s lips close around him he cries out—not quietly, either—and he finds himself hunching forward, his breaths coming ragged.

Elmer leans back again. “Still good?”

“I’ll _tell_ you if it’s not,” Huey answers, and his impatience _definitely_ sounds needy now. He pulls Elmer back to his task only to have to stifle a whine when Elmer’s mouth goes to work. It comes out as a choked groan instead—not an improvement. It’s _unfair_ that Elmer should be halfway decent at this without any experience, unfair that he’s got an intuitive sense of what to do with his lips when he couldn’t manage basic tact if his life depended on it. Almost as unfair as it is that he’s fallen for Elmer in the first place.

But even that thought slips away from Huey as easily as it appears, and between gritted teeth that do nothing to keep his moans from escaping, he says, “Elmer—”

“Hm?”

“Touch me.”

Elmer lifts his hand and Huey shapes it into a circle around his erection and Elmer, always clever, catches on at once and begins stroking him where his mouth doesn’t quite reach. The extra stimulation makes Huey’s knees weak.

“Elmer, _yes_ —nghn—” bursts out of him, and it doesn’t stop there; Huey gives up on keeping quiet as Elmer continues to touch him and lick him. He only leans his head back, tries to keep his hips from canting forward but gives up on that too as Elmer’s free hand snakes around to cup his rear. His hand is tight in Elmer’s hair—no idea when that happened—and the sounds that are escaping him do not in any way resemble words. But that’s okay, maybe. This is _good_ and the fact that it’s Elmer doing it to him is bizarre but somehow warm and _right_.

He only realizes how close he is to orgasm a moment before it hits him and has to shove Elmer away to avoid coming into his mouth. It lands on Elmer’s shoulder instead as Huey pumps his erection with his hand, breathing raggedly. Then he is spent, and he opens his eyes to see Elmer grinning up at him, and Huey reaches out with his free hand to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Good?” Elmer asks.

“Yeah,” Huey replies, and for just a moment he feels the gentle smile Elmer’s been looking for on his face.

Once he’s caught his breath, Huey uses a handkerchief to clean off Elmer’s shoulder. He offers to do something in return, but Elmer waves the suggestion away.

“Nah, I’m fine. That’s the first time you’ve ever smiled at _me_ like that, so I’m good for like, a year.”

Huey believes him. He rolls his eyes and feels his lips form the smirk Elmer more commonly gets from him. “You really _are_ a smile junkie.”

“I sure am!”

Elmer spreads himself out across his bed, and Huey comes to sit on the edge, admitting—safe in the privacy of his own head—that he might be almost as fond of Elmer’s smile as Elmer is of his.

They sit together for a quiet moment. Then a mischievous light comes to Elmer’s eye.

“Heh. Moni-Moni was right, you’re pretty loud, huh?”

Huey reddens and opens his mouth to protest, but Elmer laughs again before he can speak.

“Don’t look so embarrassed, it’s really cute! I liked it!”

“Calling it cute does nothing to make me less embarrassed…” Huey mutters, but he doesn’t say more than that. Monica’s mentioned that she likes it too, and while the lapse in his self-control doesn’t particularly please him, he supposes he can survive sometimes letting down his guard with these two. He supposes they’re worth it. The way Elmer’s looking at him now is nice, his eyes bright and analytical but his smile quiet.

It’s disarming, too, which must be why Huey’s thoughts trip out of him so easily.

“I’m surprised  _you_ weren’t more vocal.”

“Hm?”

“I thought you’ve said they liked it when you screamed.”

It’s more blunt than he means to be, but the thought has been lurking in the back of his mind since they started, and well—Elmer’s never been shy about talking about his childhood. He avoids the subject more for others’ sakes than his own.

Now, the smile slips from Elmer’s face, but not with displeasure; instead, he’s thoughtful. “Mm, yeah… I used to scream a lot, back then. I mean, what they did hurt a lot more than you nibbling on me.”

Huey’s heart flips over. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Elmer says, waving his apology away. “Sorry, I phrased that badly. I just mean that they were always coming up with new things to do to me. They had to, if they wanted me to scream. I was pretty quiet otherwise, even back then, unless I was really scared they were going to kill me.”

His eyes have wandered away from Huey for a moment; now they come back, and he winces when he sees Huey’s expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about this right n—”

Huey leans over him and kisses him. Hard. That feeling from before is back, angry and raw and protective, but he is surer than ever that its name is love.

He’s panting when he raises his head, and he looks Elmer square in the eye.

“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” he swears. “Not even for a smile. Not even for a hundred smiles.”

And it doesn’t matter if Elmer refuses that sentiment; that’s how he feels, that’s what’s important to him, and he is going to fight with everything he has to make sure this man is protected. _Huey_ is no smile junkie; all he needs is for Monica and Elmer to be safe. Everyone else can go to hell for all he cares.

But to his surprise, Elmer’s face softens, and a quiet smile shapes his lips. “Thanks, Huey. It feels really nice to hear you say that.”

Huey’s cheeks tinge pink. “It does?”

“Uh-huh.” He reaches up to trace Huey’s face with one hand; traces Huey’s lips, poking at the corners pointedly (a demand to smile? No, evidence that he’s smiling already) before moving to brush Huey’s hair out of his face. Elmer’s smile grows a little fuller. “Yeah,” he whispers, half to himself. “It’s really nice.”


End file.
